She

When I saw her, I knew. I knew I had taken a life. I have never seen owls on this road before. Come to think of it, I have never been out here this late at night. If I hadn’t seen her, I could have mistaken her screech for my screaming tires against the road. Being the only one out here, I know I was speeding. I need to stop, don’t I? I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at least get out and see if it's alright. I leave my car door open and my keys in the ignition as I step towards her. She is a female, as I can tell by the color of her neck. She also isn’t moving. I can’t believe this; how could I have not seen her? Is this a sign, dear Universe? Why did this have to happen to such a sacred creature, and why did I have to be the one to do it?! I can just feel the ever-growing sensation of isolation inside me pulsating stronger and stronger.

I have driven this road hundreds of times, but never in this darkness, never in this fog. Like a thick exhalation of a lover’s breath, I am both captivated and exhilarated at once. I kneel beside her body, the most illustrious barn owl I have ever seen. Her wingspan is great, her feathers intact. Hopefully, the end was quick. Here she rests, still and lifeless, but I feel so alive. I scoop her into my arms and hold her to my chest. She is still warm. Carrying her to the car, I knew I would not let her death be in vain. "We have a long drive home, my still and silent feathered friend."

As I speed along the moistened road with one hand on the wheel and one wrapped around a relit hand-rolled cigarette, I can’t help but feel like my new friend and I are both experiencing a rite of passage. Here she is, returning her soul to the source, her energy back to the earth. Here I am, leaving behind complacency, a failed relationship, and finally relinquishing control. His house on the hill had become my solace, and then it had become my cage. It is time to go home, I need to be home.

I am thinking of all the things my mother would say, of all the things she did say. Why didn’t I listen? It was love, it was passion, it was a million tiny deaths. We were simultaneously everything and nothing to one another. How can true love bloom in a space such as that? How can I bloom in a space such as that? The truth is, I couldn’t. If it were up to him, we would’ve remained there, hanging in the balance between living and living as if we were already dead. I need more, I know I need more. Ultimately, that is what finally led me to flee, to leave him in the middle of the night, to run.

The drive seems to be taking me hours. Maybe it’s just because I can’t shut off my mind. I can’t silence these racing thoughts. I know in the morning he will call, or follow me to town, or knock on my door, but I don’t want to think about that now. I won’t be there anyway. I know he loves me, but it simply isn’t enough. It will never be enough. Putting the cherry of my cigarette out, and exhaling my last bit of smoke, it becomes apparent. I will not be going home. I no longer want to do what is expected of me. I no longer want to be where I am expected to be. I want out of this never-ending loop of monotony.

I have been driving for such a long time that the sun begins to peek over the ridge in the distance. It’s morning time, and I have long since passed my house, long since passed my town. I am already starting to think that I will never go back. Pulling over on the side of the road, I park at a look-off point. The Oregon coast, what a sight for sore eyes. I am in awe that I have come so far overnight. Masses of rock protrude from the ocean; I can hear the waves crash all around them. I decide to take my barn owl down to the sea. After all, she has been the politest and most thought-provoking of companions. She deserves to see the water, feel the sun, and catch the breeze.

Her feathers ruffle a bit in the wind, but I am quick to smooth them down. We have come such a long way. It is almost as if our combined intuition brought me to this location. I drove without aim and here we are. Kneeling in the sand with her in my arms, I decide it may be time to let her go. I will bury her here in this most beautiful of spots, collecting a few feathers so that she is always with me. I kiss her atop her golden head. It’s nearly impossible to control the tear flow at this time. I have always dreamt of flying with owls, up in the sky surrounded by them. I never meant to take her life, but she probably never meant to give me mine back either.